


Camera ready

by Anonymous



Category: Les Misérables (Dallas 2014)
Genre: Cameras, Come Marking, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-30 00:19:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6399982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not a good idea to take photos of someone right after sex without warning them. Someone should tell Javert that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Camera ready

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the unwanted photo-taking, this is not particularly dubconny. But obviously please don't try this at home.

Valjean was sinking backwards into the pillows, sated and fond and drowsy with orgasm, when he heard the click. Then another one. And another.

His eyes flickered open. “Uh. Did you just--”

Javert, still straddling his thighs, looked up from his phone. In less than a moment, his expression shifted from his usual satisfied leer into something almost panicked.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” Javert said, spreading his free hand in a gesture that Valjean supposed was meant to be calming. Showed what Javert knew. Somehow it wasn’t so easy to feel calm with a guy’s weight pinning you down and your naked body in his photo stream. He twisted his head sideways, burying his face in the pillow, hoping to hell it didn’t look like he was trying to hide. 

“I wasn’t going to upload it anywhere or send it to anyone, I swear. You just-” he made a helpless gesture. Reached down to run a finger through the mess on Valjean’s stomach, dragged his hand further down to cup his softening cock. “You look good like this. All sleepy and fucked-out. Christ, I should have known better.”

Valjean groaned. A part of him wanted to arch upwards into the touch. It was never long before Javert was up for another round. He’d probably be ready even sooner this time. And Valjean couldn’t get into it as fast as Javert could, but he was still - if Javert wanted to go again, that is - he was still - 

_Slick_ , that was the word Javert liked to growl in his ear as he pushed his fingers into him. Slick and _stretched_. He bit back a low, embarrassed groan.

“Want me to stop?” 

“Stop taking photos or stop - this?” He broke off with a gasp as Javert adjusted his grip, the backs of his fingers teasingly light against Valjean’s thighs.

“Either.” Javert’s hand was still on his cock and the other was still clutching his phone like he wouldn’t let it go for anything. But he meant it, Valjean knew. Javert didn’t say things he didn’t mean, for better or for worst.

Valjean glanced at the phone. “Please tell me you aren’t filming.”

Javert, hilariously, looked almost offended. “Of course not. I wouldn’t film you without _asking_.”

“No, of course not.” He half-groaned into the clean white linen as Javert’s fingers slipped even further back. And now Javert was clambering into place above him, adjusting his stance between his thighs as he shoved them apart, and Valjean barked out a laugh. “So we’re up for round two?”

“Yeah,” Javert’s voice was rough. And yup, there was that insistent hard flesh pressing against him, more needy than Javert would ever admit to being. “Yeah. Sorry. You don’t have to let me fuck you or anything. I just- please, Valjean.”

 _He wants to mess you up some more_ the treacherous thought snaked through his mind, cruel enough to make him shudder. _You think a guy’s changed. You think you can trust him. Next thing you know he’s taking photos and collecting evidence._ He bit down on the thought. Not charitable. Not fair. He knew Javert better than that. Knew the desperation that was strung through every line of his body and every word he breathed.

Javert’s breath was ragged. How the hell did the guy come back so fast? Valjean tried a smile. “Yeah, okay. Yeah.”

“Don’t even need to fuck you,” Javert’s mouth was close to Valjean’s ear, his beard scraping at his skin. His cock moved against Valjean’s thighs, sliding against the leftover come and lube that was smeared between Valjean’s legs. “I could just jerk off over you. Maybe take some more photos, if you like. Let you look at yourself.” 

He was thrusting sloppily, half-toppling and half-crawling forwards. His hands came up to grab at Valjean’s shoulders, at his face - the phone must have slipped onto the mattress because Javert’s hands were everywhere, drawing sticky fingerprints down Valjean’s cheek as he pulled him in for a clumsy kiss. Sprawling all over Valjean, tangling him up under long, graceless limbs and solid bulk.

They pulled apart. Javert was all wet lips and dark eyes. He leaned down to press a more careful kiss to the corner of Valjean’s mouth. And heaven help Valjean, but somehow he wasn’t afraid. Wasn’t afraid of the photos on Javert’s camera or Javert’s teeth as they worked at his throat or Javert’s cock, thick and insistent as he rutted against his thigh. Javert’s hands were clamped around his shoulder and hip, clutching with the same ferocity he had felt when Javert had grasped him at the Pont-au-Change. But there was no desperation, no fury. There was only Javert’s open mouth and his quick, jerking thrusts. His eyes were heavy-lidded, as though he was used to coming with his eyes closed but couldn’t bear not to watch. And Valjean had a thousand reasons to be afraid, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t. He was-

Javert finished with a stuttering cry, collapsing forward. Valjean drew a long breath. He reached around to run a comforting hand through Javert’s hair, enjoying the gradual rise and fall of Javert’s back as his breathing evened out. They were such different men, he thought. But he took some comfort in these quiet moments: the way their bodies pressed closer than he had ever felt to another person. The way their breath gently found their way into a kind of rhythm. 

He laughed soundlessly. If the Lord was watching, he thought, he must make quite a picture. There he was: half-trapped under a naked man, his body splattered with drying come and his heart aching with all the things he'd never believed were for him to feel. He pressed a soft kiss to Javert’s shoulder and felt an answering rumble as Javert sleepily grunted his approval.

“You planning on letting me out any time soon?” He said it quietly, a part of him half-hoping Javert was already asleep and wouldn’t hear him. But Javert just mumbled something into the pillow and flopped onto his back with a thud. Valjean chuckled, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at him. 

“You’re not bad to look at, you know that,” he said, palming Javert’s bicep lightly. Javert mumbled something incoherent in response, eyes still shut. He groped sideways until he caught the familiar sharp edge of the smartphone, nestled in the folds of the duvet. What could one little picture hurt?


End file.
